Black Kerthon's Doom (22 page)

"Daura! This is wonderful!" He hugged her tightly. "I feel like I've been reborn. I walked in darkness for so long."

"I was worried about you. When you appeared to us, you were so different. I wasn't sure if it was you."

"It was, but there was so much horror crushing me, it is no small wonder that I didn't go mad."

"It was Kerthon? We heard about his spirit taking over Kaell. He was part of you?"

"Yes," his voice was low and the memory shook him. He did not speak for several moments.

"Tell me of it."

"I don't remember most of it. Darkness, cold and pain, but do not ask me more. I am free of him, if only slightly. I do not relish the fact that he is walking the earth because of me. All I want right now is to get as far away from that accursed creature as I can."

"The rebellion?"

"The High King is dead. Now the battle is with an ancient sorcerer. I don't think it can be called a rebellion any longer."

"But the goal is still the same," said Daura.

"Yes, but the stakes are much higher. With Kerthon more than your life is at stake."

"You will stay with us?" asked Daura.

"But we can't stay here. It is too close to the Sorcerer. I feel he will find me."

"Shall we go up the coast toward Mayse?"

"I'd love to walk along the beach. I have not done that in so long. I love the waves caressing the shore. Come, let us go and you can tell me about everyone as we walk."

"How did you get to Nantitet?"

"I do not remember clearly. Kerthon pushed me southward and I came upon a tall man. Hideously pale with filed teeth. I could not believe his teeth. Sharp as a knife. He said he had been waiting for me. His name was Scithers. He had a second horse and we rode to Nantitet. When we reached the palace, he disappeared and I found myself wandering. Then I found the High King. It was frightening. Somehow, Kerthon came to life. All I remember was the stench and the pain as if my stomach had been pulled out through my navel. I thought I would die, but Kerthon sent me away. He didn't seem afraid that I could harm him, in fact, he seemed to consider me insignificant."

"I don't." She spoke softly, and then looked down.

"Don't stop. Keep saying things like that, I need all the confidence I can get. I thought I was losing my mind."

Daura leaned against him and he wrapped his arm around her. He felt some of his mirth returning and he laughed loudly. Perhaps the dark shadows would leave him. He remembered the haunted expressions of Gareth when he thought no one was watching. Was that to be his fate? Would the whispers chase him all his life? Would he go mad like Gareth's father and seemingly Gareth as well? Perhaps he would be able to sit on the shore again and be soothed by the crashing of the waves.

"Now, let's find a way out of this city."

"I feel something on the other side of that door," said Gareth.

"What do you mean?"

"A presence. I know there is someone there although I heard no sounds and see no shadow under the door. I can hear breathing but it seems like it is in my mind."

"I think we should turn back," said Brice, his hand on his sword.

"Not yet, I must see what is there." They both stared at the door without moving.

"Kerthon, of course. Are you so reckless, now?"

Gareth stopped and thought for a few minutes. He turned to Brice and smiled.

"I suppose you're right. Let's go back."

They turned and left, softly climbing down the stairs to the storage room again. They did not hear the door open at the top of the stairs and they did not see the dark figure, which watched them go back the way they had come.

The outer door was latched.

"Did you latch it?" asked Gareth.

"No." They looked around the room but the shadows were dense and they saw no movement.

"We should wait," said Gareth.

"What if whoever latched the door is waiting for help?"

"They might not know we are here."

Brice saw the movement first. A dark figure stepped from a corner and came toward them. Brice had his sword ready. Gareth held him back.

"It's you!" said the figure. "It's really you."

The man walked into the dim light.

"Chraset? Why are you still here? I thought you would leave quickly. You can't risk anyone finding out who you are."

"Poor luck."

"I know what you mean."

"Couldn't get away. I was in the wine cellar doing some research on a few bottles when everything fell apart. First, the High King was dead and then this sorcerer had taken over. I couldn't get out through the main levels so I came down here to find a way out."

"We're going now. Are you with us?"

"Sure. Is the rebellion still going?"

"I can't say at the moment. There is much to discover about Kerthon before I know what to do."

"Understood. Well, I'm still with you, with or without the rebellion."

"Good." He slapped Chraset on the shoulder and led them out of the palace. The dark figure on the stairs nodded its head with satisfaction.

Serada's leg still burned and he could not walk anymore that day. The gash was not that deep but it was long and bloody. Mira was satisfied that it would heal well. He walked for several miles, Mira in the lead, and his limp was severe. He clenched his teeth and moved well until afternoon when the pain brought sweat to his face. He had lost track of where they were and he did not know what time of day it was. Serada looked up at the sun but couldn't determine where it was and as he looked for it he continued in his path and the sun swirled around him and it was behind him and then in front of him and then he felt the ground come up fast and the pain streaked to the back of his eyes and the wound reopened.

Mira tried the whiskey again but Serada nearly passed out.

When Gareth and the majority of the rebels fled to the river they drew most of the soldiers with them and Mira and Serada had the opportunity to escape, but not without some difficulty. The initial rush of soldiers hurried toward Gareth. Mira and Serada tried to run in the opposite direction but not all the soldiers had given chase to Gareth. Mira killed one with her crossbow. Serada struck a soldier on the shield with his sword but the jolt made him drop the sword.

A broadsword bit Serada's leg and he went down under the rush of the Calendian soldier. Mira stopped to help but Serada had already slipped his knife between his assailant's ribs. There were no other soldiers in sight. They decided to get as far as they could from the area before turning south to Nantitet. However, walking was painful, running was worse, and it took much effort by Mira for them to reach their present location.

"Do you think everyone got away?" asked Serada.

"Can't say for sure, but when Gareth's involved I would say some escaped and I would hope Gareth was among them. We will not know for some time I am afraid. Our only route is north, back to the woods."

"Neheva's woods?"

"I'm afraid so. She let us in once and she may again. We can't go to Lynburg, the soldiers are strong there and to reach Stormridge we must pass through Neheva's wood. Or else skirt the south of Darkenwood but we would have to go as far south as Rhath to do that and there is no future in that direction. No, I'm afraid its Neheva's wood for us."

"I don't want to complain, but are you sure of our choices?"

"Serada, I've lived in the woods and mountains for all of my life. I am much older than I look. Please do not comment on that, I would hate to strike a lame man. I know my woodcraft well and there are no other choices."

"Wait until I'm healed then."

She laughed. "You sound like Macelan."

"Very well, lead on, Lady Mira."

"Don't tease," she said, smiling.

They made slow but steady progress for several days and entered the forest when they were able. They were afraid that pursuit would catch them too quickly and they would be spotted before they were aware of it. Among the trees, it would be difficult to spot them and further in the forest their presence would be undetected. The only potential problem would be if their destination was guessed then the soldiers might be waiting there for them.

The undergrowth was thicker in this part of the forest than in Neheva's Wood and they had several more miles to walk before they reached it. Serada found the unseen uneven ground painful to his leg and they stopped more frequently as the day wore on.

"Where do you think Gareth will go?" asked Serada, during one of their stops.

"To Nantitet. He must directly attack the High King himself. Our small army is destroyed. There is no other way. I do not know how many may have survived but with those few Gareth will try to infiltrate the palace and assassinate the High King. What choices do they have?"

"None, I guess. What do you think happened to Macelan?"

"I couldn't guess. But Neheva sounded pretty ominous."

"Do you think he really met Kerthon?"

"I don't think so. Kerthon died a thousand years ago."

"But how old is Neheva? And it must have been Kerthon I saw her talking with."

"She put you under some kind of spell. You saw what she wanted you to see."

They started walking again, their conversation pulled Serada along, and he did not notice his pain as much. Mira was conscious of this and talked about everything that came to mind. Serada jumped to each new subject as if he too, was aware of its affect on his pain.

"Where do you want to go when this is over?" asked Mira.

"Back home for a while. I'd like to see the sea again, but if the soldiers still roam the area I guess I will keep moving north and see what's on the over side of the mountains."

"What if Gareth wins?"

"Then I shall return home. But I do not anticipate Gareth winning. The odds are far too long. Do you think he meant what he said about Macelan and me?"

"No. He was discouraged and needed to vent his anger at someone. He just happened to see you." Serada was silent for a moment.

"I wonder what happened to Macelan."

"You're very close to him aren't you?" asked Mira.

"We grew up together. He has always been the leader and I depend on him. I guess it shows. But it also sounds funny because neither of us can find work."

"You have found work now," said Mira.

"Funny, isn't it? We had to come all this way to find our place."

"Do you really feel that way?"

"I think I do. I never had anyone count on me like this. To do my share or hurt everyone else. I never felt that trust on the fishing boats."

"You did work them?"

"Yes. At first when we were in our teens. But Macelan never developed the maturity the Captains felt necessary and I followed his lead."

"Your whole family fished?"

"Yes." He was quiet a moment. "My father had his own boat and was a leader of the fleet. He left one morning when I was six. I remember watching him walk down the pier. I watched his back, big and broad as he climbed aboard and turned to wave, then he moved out of sight. The boat moved out so slowly and I watched it until it became too small to follow. When the boat returned it was a week overdue and my father was not on it. He had fallen overboard in rough seas and was lost. His body was never found."

"I'm sorry," Mira said softly.

"I miss my father every day. He always had time to play with me. Always. I can still hear his voice, especially in the roar of the waves. I loved him. I have never said that aloud before. Perhaps I never wanted to be a fisherman. Perhaps I was afraid."

"Are you afraid now?"

"I can't say. I don't know what I feel."

As they neared Neheva's Wood Serada seemed to ramble in his speaking and much of what he said did not make much sense. Mira suspected it was some influence of the witch that affected him so strongly. As they entered Neheva's domain Serada fell to his knees and cried out.

"Good. I was hoping you'd come back," said Neheva.

Mira was shocked to see the witch where no one had been standing only a moment before.

"Come on now, Mira. Surely you would expect to see me in my own home?"

"Gareth saw you go south before the soldiers attacked us."

"What makes you think I ever left this wood?" She smiled and her sharp teeth shone in the moonlight.

"What's going on?" cried Mira. "It shouldn't be night yet!"

"Here, it is always night. Bring Serada and come to my house. It is not much further; you can make it in a few minutes. I await you there." She shimmered and vanished.

Mira stood and stared into the wood. She could not see the sky or where the moonlight came from. As far as she could tell, it was night. She did not feel safe anymore but when she looked behind her the trees seemed to have moved together to seal off her escape. With a sigh, she pulled Serada to his feet and they shuffled off in the direction of Neheva's house. The forest drew in close behind as they passed and concealed the path and trees overhung the path in front of them. It did not seem like the same forest they had entered several hundred yards back. Serada shook his head as his thoughts cleared and the spell faded. The path began to slope downward and it wound between several large and ancient trees. She could hear the song of a stream as it coursed over rocks and roots.

It was a small stone house with a thatched roof and small garden under the front window. The door was round and it opened as they approached. Mira paused before she entered; on the step was a small gray gargoyle, which stood up and bowed as she looked at it. Its body was small but the hands, feet, head were oversized, and the head was adorned with large pointed ears. It smiled and a sharp row of teeth glistened from ear to ear.

"What is that?" she cried. Serada hit the ground with a soft thud.

"What?" he asked. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head.

"I'm Rakatj," said the gargoyle. "Please be welcomed to my mistress' home. Enter, enter!" It led the way into the house.

Mira and Serada entered and found a cozy room with fur carpets and a fire in the fireplace. There were two mugs of hot tea waiting for them and they sat down and helped themselves. The walls were lined with shelves. Each shelf bowed under the weight of books, and curios, carved figures, and mummified animals. Serada was hesitating to look too closely. He expected some heads and hands of unwary travelers. He stared into his tea.